To Love is to Bury
by Vanillasiren
Summary: Re-write of the coffin scene from "Welcome to Storybrooke." Golden Queen angst from each character's POV.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Re-write of the coffin scene from "Welcome to Storybrooke." Golden Queen angst, Rumple's POV. May be followed up with a companion piece from Regina's POV. Inspired in part by **wolfenqueenyuri's** take on same (because it's not plagiarism when great minds think alike!)

Author's Note: Okay, so y'all know I'm a rabid Golden Queen shipper. Given that "The Miller's Daughter" shows beyond a doubt that Cora and Rumplestiltskin were romantically/sexually involved, I've had to readjust my head-cannon. So first, just let me say given what Cora said in "The Miller's Daughter" about Rumple _not_ getting her child because it _wasn't_ his, and that the episode writer confirmed on Twitter that Regina is _not_ Rumple's daughter, this is NOT an incest fic. Now does the fact that Rumple had a sexual relationship with Regina's mother mean that shipping Golden Queen is kind of creepy? Well, yeah, but … come on. It's Golden Queen. The dark, twisted undercurrent is pretty much already built in. Heck, I think that's why I love them so much. And now, after all my rambling, I give you ….

To Love is To Bury

Rumplestiltskin has committed many sick, twisted and despicable deeds in his long, dark life.

Certainly, he's done far more disturbing things than bed both a mother and her daughter.

So why does that particular act of perversion still bother him?

But really, it wasn't as though he planned it that way.

He told Regina the truth when they first met – or rather, re-met. It was one of the few times he had been completely honest with her. He _hadn't_ seen it. He hadn't seen her mother in her. Regina was beautiful, true enough, but it was a beauty of a different sort. She had her father's coloring, she really did.

Sometimes he almost pitied the man. Almost.

And even in her most dire moments, facing death, Cora had never had the wide-eyed, drowning look that Regina did that night. Cora had been _hungry_ from the moment he met her, hungry for revenge, hungry for power, hungry for _him_ (or so he thought), and oh yes, it had aroused him, her bloodlust, her darkness …

But Regina … Regina had been scared and sweet and helpless. "I don't want to hurt anyone," she'd said. It really was hard to believe they were from the same family.

So innocent she seemed, dressed all in white. So … guileless, so naïve, looking shocked at the idea she could actually be powerful.

Regina was absolutely and utterly ... _corruptible_.

And Cora never was, never had been. Cora had been corrupt when he met her, but with Regina, he had to draw the darkness out, teasingly, slowly, painstakingly, step by devious step …

And yes, it aroused him. It aroused him even more than Cora's darkness had.

Still, he had never planned on taking her into his bed. He really hadn't. Teaching her, of course, he had certainly planned on – a more thorough and in-depth instruction than Cora ever had, one that spanned years instead of months. Using her to cast the Dark Curse, he'd always intended – why else would he have needed her around for so long?

But he hadn't planned the rest of it. Not gathering her up in his arms, pressing her body to his, pushing his tongue between her lips, dominating, laying claim …

It was not about love. It was never about love. He'd learned that lesson earlier, with her mother, and he'd learned it well. Even as kind and gentle as Regina seemed – well, at least initially – they were treacherous, these Mills women, and you could not trust them, could not believe even the most fervent display of devotion.

Besides which, unlike Cora, Regina had already been in love when he met her. She had loved and lost, and even at the height of their affair, he knew he'd never been anything more to her than a salve to her open wound, a consolation prize.

And it didn't bother him.

It really didn't. It never had.

After all, since he didn't love her, why should he care? This time they were no illusions. He would just take his pleasure with her and enjoy it, without any of those pesky feelings getting in the way.

Still, it was strange, strange. He couldn't help but …

Cora had been talented and vigorous lover, to be sure. She was no maiden when she came to his bed (not that he especially cared). She knew what she was doing.

But Regina …

Well, apparently all she had been able to share with her beloved stable boy were stolen kisses. With her, he was a teacher both in and out of the bedroom, and oh, he'd taught her well, and a very eager student she had been …

Honestly, after all this time, that's the only part that really bothers him. It shouldn't have been him to take her virginity. It should have been that Daniel, that stable boy. It really should've.

But truth be told, the fact that Regina had been a maiden had excited him too. She had been corruptible in every way…

He needs to stop thinking about this.

Especially now.

Regina doesn't even hear his approach, so focused is she on her grief. She's placed a rose on Cora's coffin, and starts at the sound of his voice.

"Black always was your color."

Regina looks up at him with a tear-streaked face. For an instant, she is the sad, scared young woman who first called his name, all those years ago.

Then her eyes fill with venom.

"I'm here to bury my _mother_. So if you've come to gloat –"

"I came to pay my respects," he says, and puts his own rose on top of Regina's. "We had our differences, but Cora will always have a place in my heart." _The place that she hollowed out. Your mother carved out a piece of my heart and left a gaping hole, just like Milah did._

_Just like …_

Regina gives him a look that seems to be equal parts incredulity and disgust. "You killed her to save your own life."

"Sadly, desperate times call for desperate measures."

"Like getting Mary Margaret to trick me into killing my own mother?"

_Well now, that's hardly fair_, he wants to say. _You sent Hook to kill your mother once already, and then you and I nearly blew up the well when we thought Cora was going to come through._

But he lets it go unsaid. Because however twisted and dysfunctional Regina and Cora's relationship had been, he knew that Regina had loved her. Regina had loved her mother through it all, and had wanted her love in return. And she had craved Cora's approval; she'd craved that until the very end.

More than she had ever craved his.

And he supposes Cora loved Regina too, in her way. To the extent that she was capable, without her heart.

_Did you ever really love me?_

_Why do you think I had to rip my own heart out?_

She should have put it back in. For Regina, if not for him. He's done more awful things in his long life than he cares to remember, but the thought of taking out his own heart, of not being able to feel love for his son, but instead, having only the vaguest, faintest flicker of affection for his own child …

Whatever else she does, that will never been Regina. She will never take her own heart out, not even to end the pain. If Cora didn't feel enough, then Regina feels too much.

Regina feels too much of everything.

"You may be able to hide behind your dagger, but she can't. She is going to die for what she did."

He tries to talk her out of it, of course. Tries to talk her out of revenge. It's a rather pointless exercise, given that he's the one who talked her into – or rather, manipulated her into – taking a whole curse's worth of revenge in the first place.

Regina, for all her magnificence, doesn't seem to learn much from her mistakes. She still thinks she can have everything.

But then, so does he.

"Get out," she says, and turns back to her mother's grave.

"Regina …"

"You really must being enjoying this, Rumple." Regina says bitterly, although she doesn't meet his eye, "Watching your live whore mourn over your dead one."

"That's not –"

"That's what we were, weren't we?" She snaps, turning to look back at him. "Two generations of _your whores_? My mother told me –"

"Whatever your mother told you is a lie." He has no doubt Cora twisted the truth of what happened between them to cast herself as the victim. "I never thought of her as – I never treated her like –"

"A whore?" Regina hisses. "Are you afraid to say the word?"

He's still afraid of more things than he can name. "I'm not afraid of anything. I _never_ treated your mother like a whore." _Though perhaps I should have._

Her lips twist in a sneer. "Oh, you didn't? So that was just _something special_ for me then?"

He stares at her. She can't really believe that's how he thought of her when they were together.

Can she?

"Why would you even –"

"You used me!" Regina screams. "You took – you took _everything_! You took my –" She stops short, and he knows that now she's the one who's afraid.

_Your virginity. _

"Your what?" He taunts her. "Are _you_ afraid to say the word?"

He feels the anger rise him, lets it take over, lets is smother the guilt and the shame and all the other feelings he will not name.

Regina glares at him, humiliated, angry, terrified. He gets right in her face.

"Oh but I didn't have to take _that_, did I dearie?" He hisses. "You _gave _it to me. Gave it quite willingly, as I recall."

And she had. She'd offered it up to him on a silver platter, her maidenhood. Not in a gesture of love, but in an act of desperation. She'd offered it to him because Daniel was dead and Leopold was bound to get around to bedding her eventually. And she hadn't wanted the king to be the one who claimed her virginity, so he, Rumplestiltskin would have to do.

Yes, it had all been very romantic.

He'd tried to stop it, tried to put her off, and she'd … laughed at him. Taunted him about _wanting_ her, as if any man breathing could do otherwise. Mocked him for balking at bedding her, when he'd done much darker deeds. The bitterness rises in him at the memory, but he makes himself smirk instead of scowl.

"In fact," he whispers, his face inches from hers. "I seem to recall you practically _begging_ me to fuck you –"

The space echoes with the sound of the slap. Rumplestiltskin barely has time to register the sting before she's ready to strike again, but he stops her, grabs her hand. He overpowers her despite his limp, pushes her until her back is against the wall, and pins her body with his.

"You bastard," she gasps. "You took, you took –"

"You gave it to me," he repeats, as Regina struggles pointlessly in his grasp. Damn her, she doesn't get to _blame_ him for taking her virginity. For everything else maybe, but not for that. It was _her fault, her fault,_ he never meant to –

"No!"

"You gave it me." This close, her scent surrounds him, invades him, overwhelms him.

Cora smelled liked flour, like straw spun into gold, like sex and ambition and greed.

Regina smells like pain, like sorrow spun into rage, like sex and loneliness and a desperate desire to be loved.

And apples, of course. Regina always smells like apples.

"You gave it to me," he whispers. His thumb brushes away a stray tear from her cheek. Regina has stropped struggling, and now she's trembling instead.

"Yes," she whispers back. "Yes, I gave it to you. I gave it _all_ to you. Just like my mother did. And look where that got her."

_Cora gave me nothing but empty promises._ "Your mother left _me_, Regina! She left me … just like you did."

Regina stares at him. "Left you? I – you lied to me about Daniel!"

"I told you no spell can bring back the dead –"

"You lied to me about everything! You _wanted_ me to leave! You wanted me to hate you, to have _nothing_, to have nothing left to love, so all I would care about was revenge, and casting the Dark Curse for you –"

"What do you mean, 'nothing left to love?'"

Regina freezes. "I … I didn't mean – I didn't say that –"

"Yes you did."

"_Let me go_!"

He reels back from her as if he's been scalded. "Get out!" Regina screams. "Get out, get out and let me mourn my mother in peace! This is not supposed to be about _you_!"

He turns and hobbles away as fast as he can.

He doesn't know what makes him do it, but he stops at the entryway. He doesn't look back – he can't he won't – but at the same time, he can stop himself from saying what he says next:

"If I had … if I had asked you to say with me … would you have done so?"

"That's a pointless question." Her voice comes to him, faintly, as if from a great distance.

"Because you never would have stayed?"

"Because you never would have asked." Her voice is clearer now, and strangely steady. "You never would have _asked_ for me, asked me to stay with you, so please don't insult me by pretending otherwise. There are two kinds of people in your life, Rumplestiltskin. People to be loved, and people to be used. I know exactly which one of those I am to you. Which one I've always been. My mother may have pulled my strings quite sharply, before you came along to pull them softly, but at least I had her love, for that brief moment, before …" Her voice finally cracks. "So if you have any shred of decency left in you, leave me. Leave me to mourn."

The room falls silent as … well, a tomb. The thought occurs to him, as he departs, that if Cora appealed to his evil side, and Belle appealed to his good side, then Regina …

Regina appeals to both. She is both the monster and the maid, the darkness and the light, is his Regina.

His wicked one.

Except that she isn't his. She was her mother's perhaps, or Daniel's, but never _his_.

She never was, and she never would be.

It's only after his made his way out, into the light and the air of an obscenely cheerful Storybrooke morning, that the sound reaches his ears. It's so faint he could be imagining it, but somehow, he is certain he hears the echo of Regina's sobs.


	2. Chapter 2

To Love is to Bury Part II

Summary: Re-write of the coffin scene from "Welcome to Storybrooke." Companion piece, Golden Queen angst, Regina's POV.

_This would have been enough. _You _would have been enough._

For the longest time, it had been all she ever wanted. To be enough for her mother. To be good enough, to be worthy.

To be worthy of her mother's love.

Regina had had her father's love, she knew. She didn't discount it entirely – she never could – for his love was true and sweet and selfless, but so much of the time it was … _useless_. For all his doting, he could do _nothing_ whenever Cora magically abused her. How many times had she whimpered and writhed in pain, while he stood there, bleating ineffectually at her mother to stop, or more often, simply remaining silent, head hung in shame at his inability to do anything to help her …

He never even _tried _…

It she hadn't loved him so much, she would have hated him for it.

Her mother's love was what she needed most, she knew. If she just had that she would be … _safe_, and she wouldn't have to hurt anymore.

Her father had told her she already had it. He had told her that her mother only wanted the best for her. Over the years, Regina had repeated it to herself, like a mantra, like a prayer, like a salve to the wounds Cora inflicted on her.

But …

"She can't love you, you know," Snow White had said, as disgustingly wide-eyed and earnest as ever, holding the box that contained her mother's heart. "With it, maybe she can. That's why you've never felt she loved you. She doesn't have her heart. But I do."

"You're doing this for me?" _Do you really think I'm that stupid?_

"Think about it. What would happen if Cora had her heart back, back inside her?"

Regina's own heart had beat faster at the thought. "She told me she took it out to protect herself."

"Did it work? The person she was before, do you think that person survived?"

_I don't _know_ who she was before, you little twit! She ripped her heart out before I was even born!_

_I don't know who she was before, but …_

_But I _want_ to._

"She can't love, so she can't love you."

_No. No, that's …_

"She always wanted the best for me," Regina had bleated, just like her father had taught her to. "That's love." _It _is_. It _is_, damn it!_

"Imagine real love," Snow had said….

Regina had to give her credit, at least. After all these years, Snow White had managed to manipulate her expertly.

Only two other people had ever been able to pull her strings like that.

One of them lay dead in the coffin in front of her.

The other …

The other was a twisted little imp who _deserved_ to lay dead in the coffin in front of her.

No actually, that wasn't right. He didn't deserve a _coffin_. He deserved to be rotting out in the blazing sun while vultures pecked the flesh off his miserable bones.

Not for the first time, Regina reminds herself that she hates him.

And if she hates him strongly enough, perhaps she can blot out the memories that fill her with such shame.

Like the shame she had felt that day, when she'd admitted to her mother that Rumplestiltskin had … _used_ her, and not just to cast the Dark Curse. She expected her mother to be angry, disappointed, disgusted, but instead, Cora had just _held_ her and soothed her tears. It wasn't long after that Cora revealed her own shame to Regina, and admitted that she had been used by him in the exact same way.

It had made Regina want to throw up.

Bad enough, bad enough to see him with Belle, to see Rumple looking at that girl the way she used to look at Daniel, the way he _never_ looked at her.

But now …

Now to be forced to wonder if every time they were together, every time he touched her, kissed her, _took_ her, he was imagining her _own mother_ in her place …

She hates him so much she can barely breathe. Sometimes – often – she thinks she hates Rumplestiltskin even more than Snow White, and this is one of those moments. She is standing here trying to mourn the woman who gave her life, and that twisted little imp isn't even _here_, but damn him, he's taking over, making her _jealous_ of her own –

But she's _not_. She's not jealous of anyone. Not her mother, or Belle, or any of the other unfortunate women he's fucked over the centuries.

Being jealous would imply that she felt something for Rumplestiltskin, something other than hate.

And she doesn't. She can't. She won't.

He's a twisted, manipulative bastard, and he always had been.

"Power is seductive," her father has said, just before she ripped his heart out. And Rumplestiltskin was power personified, and he had drawn Regina in, a stupid little fly who became trapped in his web, who enjoyed it there so much she let the strands twist and tangle about her, too entranced to notice she was slowly being eaten alive.

He had taken his time to entangle her. It had started after Daniel's "failed" resurrection, the memory of which still burns her. From the beginning, he'd never been shy about touching her, invading her personal space, but after she returned to him, dressed all in black, and crushed that girl's heart before his eyes … after that, it was different.

After that …

After that, it was his hot breath on her neck as he whispered in her ear, soft words of encouragement or instruction delivered in a low, silky voice that made her whole body tingle. It was his hand brushing her collarbone, or tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, or resting lightly on her hip, just for a moment, correcting her stance as she worked on her casting.

Once, she decided to ask him the price. "Someday, you'll do something for me," he had said, when he'd offered to guide her, when she'd tried to break free of his web and give the book back to him. She had known then, when she agreed to be his student, that she would owe him, but she didn't know _what _she'd owe.

"What's the price?" She had asked, and he'd tilted his head at her, looking for all the world as if he didn't know what she was talking about.

"The price of what?"

"You know what, Rumplestiltskin." She'd gestured to the potions and concoctions that lay spread out before them, the spell books that were open on the table. "The price of all this. What do you expect? What do you want from me return?"

"Oh everything, my dear. _Everything_."

The way he had looked at her when he said that…

It had made her uncomfortable. It had made her frightened.

It had made her wet.

Her face had grown warm, and she was sure she must have blushed straight to her scalp, because Rumplestiltskin had given a strange little laugh that sounded less high-pitched and maniacal than his usual giggle, as if he actually felt as awkward as she did.

"Now don't get the wrong idea, dearie," he'd said, and he'd sent her on her way for the evening, and Regina had pretended to herself like her body hadn't reacted to him the way she _knew_ it had.

She thought it might stop after that. The soft words, the softer touches. But in fact, the opposite was true.

Looking back, she supposes she has to give him points for subtlety at least. He never made any lewd comments, though his voice would dip to a low purr whenever he reminded her that black was her color, that it suited her. And he never touched in any way that was outright indecent, didn't grope or paw at her.

Regina remembers once though …

It was just his thumb, brushing her hip bone. His fingers were curled around her waist, ostensibly to guide her movements as she worked a levitation spell, and then for no apparent reason his thumb was brushing back and forth on her hip bone, so _soft_, a feather light touch, back and forth, back and forth….

Regina had thought she would stop breathing. She had thought she'd go mad.

He could have taken her right then, if he had wanted. He could have spun her around and claimed her mouth with his own and she would have shown no resistance, would not been able to offer even the faintest façade of protest. She would have moaned into his mouth and pressed her body to his and surrendered herself to him, the sweet dark magic of him, because he made her feel _alive_ and powerful and _wanted_ and …

Regina had never been _seduced_, not once in her whole life. Not until him. She'd been courted, to be sure, by Daniel, shyly and sweetly, and their kisses and had been soft and gentle, but they had never gone further than kissing –

Because unlike Rumplestiltskin, she reminded herself, Daniel actually cared about her as a person, and not just a pretty little plaything he could take his pleasure with. Daniel was decent and honorable and had wanted to wait until they were married. But because of Snow White, her true love had died, and their wedding day never came.

And Rumple … well, Rumple had never cared about her at all. Not really.

And still, she'd offered up her maidenhood to him, and he'd taken it. He had been her first, and at the time, she honestly hadn't thought too much about it, but now …

Now, she wishes it had been anyone else but him. Even Leopold would have been a better choice than...

Rumplestiltskin had taken her innocence in more ways than one.

And what shames her the most is knowing that she had enjoyed every minute, like the stupid little whore that she was, that he made to be, for him.

She should never have banished her mother to Wonderland. She should never have listened to Rumplestiltskin.

Regina lays a rose on Cora's coffin as her eyes fill with tears. I'm sorry, mother," Regina whispers, standing by Cora's coffin. "I failed you." She bows her head and begins to cry in earnest.

"Black always was your color." Regina starts at the sound of his voice, and looks up, disbelieving. After all he's done, after the way used both her and her mother, does he actually have the _nerve_ to intrude upon her grief …?

"I'm here to bury my _mother_. So if you've come to gloat –"

"I came to pay my respects," he says, and lays down his own rose across hers, as though he has _any damn right_ –

"We had our differences, but Cora will always has a place in my heart."

_Of course she does. Because apparently, every woman you _fucked_ has a place in your black, twisted little heart, except for me…_

But she doesn't_ care_. She doesn't _care_ that she means nothing to him, that she never did.

"You killed her to save your own life." _That's_ what she needs to focus on.

"Sadly, desperate times call for desperate measures."

"Like getting Mary Margaret to trick me into killing my own mother?" He has the grace to look down at that at least, to offer her the merest pretense of shame or regret. "You may be able to hide behind your dagger, but she can't. She is going to die for what she did." _And as for you, Rumple dear … one day, I swear, I will find a way to … hurt you. There will come a day when you think you're safe, when you think you've won, but I promise you, your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and then you will know the debt is paid._

She almost wants to laugh when he tries to talk her out of the revenge. It's like a drug dealer telling his best client to put down the crack pipe. He really is quite pathetic underneath all his magic and manipulations.

"You must really be enjoying this Rumple. Watching your live whore mourn over your dead one."

She doesn't understand why he looks so baffled by her use of the word. She may once have been stupid enough to believe otherwise, but now, she knows precisely what she was to him, and she wishes he would just drop the act and _not_ pretend like he ever actually cared for her …

But the baffled look remains. "Why would you even –"

_Damn him._ "You took – you took _everything_! You took my –"

_You took me in your arms and pressed your lips to mine and took all my pain away, if only for a moment. You _took me_ and I … _yielded_ to you, surrended myself completely_, _as I have never done with any man since, because you made me feel…_

_Because you made feel. You bastard, you made me _feel_. When what I needed was _not _to feel anything anymore…_

She finally understands why her mother had to rip out her own heart.

Of course, he has to taunt her. Taunt her on how wet and willing she was, the eager virgin whore in his bed.

He smirks, his face inches from hers, and when he sneers about her practically _begging_ to be fucked by him –

Slapping him isn't quite as satisfying as putting his own dagger through his black heart, but it feels damn good all the same.

But when she tries to do it again, he catches her hand, overpowers her somehow, pins her against the wall.

"You gave it to me," he keeps saying.

_Yes._ "No," she whimpers. This close, his scent surrounds her, invades her.

Daniel smelled like hay, like love and friendship and freedom.

Rumplestiltskin smells like straw spun into gold, like fear and sex and something indefinable, something she can only describe as _him_, the sweet dark magic of _him _…

"You gave it to me," he whispers, and when she feels his thumb brush against her cheek, she trembles.

"Yes," she whispers back. "Yes, I gave it to you. I gave it _all_ to you. Just like my mother did. And look where that got her."

"Your mother left me, Regina! She left me … just like you did."

Regina stares at him. "Left you? I – you lied to me about Daniel!"

"I told you no spell can bring back the dead –"

"You lied to me about everything! You _wanted _me to leave! You wanted me to hate you, to have _nothing_, to have nothing left to love, so all I would care about was revenge, and casting the Dark Curse for you –"

"What do you mean, 'nothing left to love?'"

Regina freezes. _No. No._ "I … I didn't mean – I didn't say that –"

"Yes you did."

_No. I hate you. I hate you! _"Let me go!"

He reels back from her as if he's been scalded. "Get out!" Regina screams. "Get out, get out and let me mourn my mother in peace! This is not supposed to be about you!"

He finally backs away, but of course, being the evil little imp that he is, he can't leave her in peace without twisting the knife one last time.

"If I had … if I had asked you to stay with me … would you have done so?"

For a moment, Regina thinks she'll stop breathing. But she focuses on her mother's grave, on her death, and forces her voice to be low and even. "That's a pointless question."

"Because you never would have stayed?"

_Stay steady. Stay cold._ "Because you never would have asked. You never would have _asked_ for me, asked me to stay with you, so please don't insult me by pretending otherwise. There are two kinds of people in your life, Rumplestiltskin. People to be loved, and people to be used. I know exactly which one of those I am to you. Which one I've always been. My mother may have pulled my strings quite sharply, before you came along to pull them softly, but at least I had her love, for that brief moment, before …" Her voice finally cracks, despite her determination. "So if you have any shred of decency left in you, leave me. Leave me to mourn."

It's only when she certain she's gone that Regina allows herself to break down.

Regina cries as she has not done in a very long time; not mere tears, but great gasping sobs that wrack her whole body. She cries for her terrifying, powerful mother, and for her poor, useless father, and for her sweet, estranged son that bears her daddy's namesake and is in the clutches of her enemies.

But most of all, and to her everlasting shame, she cries because …

_Of course. Of course I would have stayed with you. All you had to do was ask for me, Rumple, _ask for me_, just once, _just one damn time_, and I would have stayed with you. I would have stayed with you forever. I would have given up on power, on revenge, if could have just have been _yours_, your Regina, your _wicked one_ for the rest of my days…_

_But you never would have asked. A man doesn't ask for a whore. He just rents her until he gets tired of her, and then he tosses her aside. _

_Because a whore means nothing … because _I_ meant nothing …_

In this moment, Regina thinks, she would take out her heart, if she could, just to end the pain.

If only she could.

But even her own heart is not hers to take. She prays he never realizes it, but her heart is in the same place it's been for _years_, ever since he first appeared before her, and told her they belonged together.

Rumplestiltskin can't see it, but …

But her heart is still right _there_, bleeding in his hands.


End file.
